Harry Potter: The Orphans Chronicals
by Sagi-chan
Summary: Bite sized fics of teenaged angst. Especially juicy when the world is against you. [AU] [NonMagic] [slash HPDM] [on going]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _In no way do I attempt to claim ownership of Harry Potter and its associated characters, concepts or ideas. JKR kicks butt and I know it._

**AN:** _This was a short attack that, well, attacked me today. I, in my great excitement for both the Harry Potter movie and final book (though sadly, neither or these will occur before the summer) I have rejoined the Harry Potter world. I believe my last attempt was a crossover... or something. This is just a one-shot clip. Enjoy._

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**Harry Potter: **_The Orphans Chronicles_  
**Part 1: **_The Orphanage_  
**By: **_Sagi_

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Harry Potter slammed the door to his bedroom shut and dropped onto bed in the room. The dark haired sixteen year old boy sighed, running one hand through his messy hair before rolling over, burying his face in a pillow and screaming out all of his frustration.

Furious pounding on the wall next to his head failed to cut off his scream, but the inhabitants of that room were far too used to this by now to really care.

Harry did cut off his scream a moment later however. He knew that if he kept it up the woman in charge of the Orphanage, the Matron would come up and demand to hear every single problem that he had encountered that day. As she so often did anyway. Though Harry knew that the woman at least cared about him; that was the last thing that he wanted at this particular moment. He didn't _want_ to feel obligated to share his thoughts and feelings like all of the other orphans at St. Mungo's Orphanage. Besides, Harry wasn't stupid.

He knew she was already suspicious. He knew she'd be getting ready to trek up to his attic room.

The door slam would have alerted the Matron immediately that something was wrong with her favorite and second oldest charge. If anything worse than a door slam happened in the next few moments – including a drawn out scream or too heavy of pounding on the wall, she would come up and make him talk about his feelings. Regardless of is she came up or not the eldest orphan would come up anyway. They did share the room, after all, and nothing short of a stampeding rhino would keep him out.

Despite all of this, the scream hadn't let out all of Harry's frustration and anger so he settled for punching his pillow instead of screaming into it. It only helped marginally if he imagined a stupid looking freckled face in the soft folds of cotton and it was, if anything other than a different method, much quieter.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later and a boy who looked about Harry's age walked into the room and sat down on the foot of the bed. His steps were quiet, his posture and composure perfect, even in the relative privacy of his own bedroom. This boy however much they shared the same age was the complete and perfect opposite of Harry. Where Harry had dark and endlessly messy hair, this boy was blond and straight haired. Where Harry's skin retained a tan all year long, this boy stayed milky pale despite the best efforts of the sun. Harry's name was common; this boy's name was elegant and exotic. Harry wore his emotions and his heart on his sleeve while this other boy remained a cool picture of composure.

Despite the small things, these two were as close as two people could be.

"Harry," the boy said now, placing on hand on Harry's shoulder and halting the relentless punching to what the blond now noticed to be his own pillow. His voice, while calm and light held a certain note of unyielding command in its tone. "Who was it this time?"

He said that unfairly, Harry dimly thought, his mind didn't need to jump immediately to the idea that Harry was often teased at school. It might be true, but that wasn't the only reason Harry would feel anger and frustration.

Harry stiffened slightly, but it wasn't from the hand on his shoulder or the fact that the other boy had caught him venting his anger. It was from the intensely perceptive question that left no room for denying an answer or even giving a false one.

"Weasley," he sighed finally, slumping his shoulders and letting most of his anger leave him, just like he always did. "As usual."

"More of the same filth that usually flows out of his commoners mouth, then?" The blond said with contempt and irony lacing his voice now. "One would think he would learn new and interesting insults, rather than sticking to the old and not quite so clever ones."

He prompted Harry with a lifted brow.

"Orphans don't belong at Hogwarts," Harry said in a mocking, half gasping voice, obviously repeating something that Weasley often said to him in the same tone. "Little orphan boys who rely on the state to pay their tuition because their parents left them no money should go to the public high school like all of the other swine in this town." A snort. "You and Malfoy don't belong here, Potter, and the sooner you see that the better."

The blond smirked again, his brow climbing higher, but before he could comment on the many flaws in Weasley's logic, Harry had completely turned around to face him an intent look on his face. All traces of the dry humor in his voice were not reflected in his expression.

The blond blinked in surprise. "Harry?" He asked hesitantly.

"That wasn't what he said to me though," Harry admitted, his eyes firmly locked on the bedspread, "not today anyway. Today he said something new."

His companion frowned but other than that didn't prompt Harry to offer whatever it was that Weasley had said to him.

"Draco," the dark haired boy said finally. "It's possible for people like... _us_ to find love, isn't it?"

The boy – Draco – frowned and moved closer to Harry, moving the hand that was on his shoulder to cradle his cheek instead. That had been his guess. Weasley was on cloud nine lately – his girlfriend was usually the cause of that.

Harry, more than anybody, would need to be reassured about his right to be loved. It was because Harry didn't trust himself to trust people. It took years of true effort before he was able to truly relax around Draco and as far as Draco knew, he was the only person Harry allowed to be so close. Not even the Matron, who had cared for him lovingly for over a decade, was that close to Harry.

Having had an uncle who has tossed him into an orphanage as a birthday present at age five, after having parents die four years before, Draco knew exactly where Harry stood on the ideas of love and acceptance. He was skeptical; so much of his unfortunate childhood had imprinted his psyche negatively. It didn't help that nobody had even thought to adopt Harry in the long years that he had lived in St. Mungo's Orphanage.

Nobody had wanted Harry, despite the fact that he got perfect marks in school and had earned himself a scholarship for both high school and college. Despite the fact that he was athletic and graceful and quiet and willing to learn everything that somebody was willing to teach him. Despite the fact that he only grew more beautiful as his grew. Nobody had even thought about wanting him. Not as a parent, or a friend, or even a lover. The amount of time and patience that were needed when it came to winning Harry's heart wasn't something that most people possessed. When most people learned just how much effort was involved, they gave up. Nobody was as determined in the way that Draco had been determined.

It didn't help, now, that Weasley was flaunting his new girlfriend and taunting his girlfriend about this.

"Harry," he said again, his eyes now searching the deep green pools that led him deep into the other boy's soul. "You already have a love that is so much deeper and so much stronger than anything that Weasley could ever hope to gain."

Draco smirked then, letting the smugness shine through his own eyes. Letting Harry see the light and the love in his eyes that he only would ever let reflect in them for Harry to see. A hesitant smile appeared on Harry's face.

"You have _my_ love," he said, letting his hand stroke Harry's tan cheek while his other hand found and squeezed the tips of Harry's fingers. "And despite how much Weasley thinks Granger's love can top that – it can't. _Ever_."

Harry smiled then, relaxing enough to allow Draco to lay him down on the pillow he had just been pummeling. Draco followed him. The bed – which was really two beds pushed together – adapted to them, as it always did. Dipping softly in the middle and allowing Draco to lay down – half on top of Harry – comfortably.

"Matron would be upset if she saw us like this," Harry mumbled, though no true worry laced his voice.

Draco shifted a little bit, perhaps shrugging, but not seeming to mind. Instead, he used the hand still resting on Harry's cheek to turn pink and chewed lips towards him and seal their mouths together with a kiss. Harry indulged him, trusted him, and most importantly kissed him back.

The Matron _would_ be upset if she was them like this – but it wasn't as though she had never seen them like this before. Besides, Draco had told her when he first say Harry that they would become this way. And Weasley would have a heart attack if he saw them like this – but that was what made it more fun, at least for Draco.

"I wonder if we should tell Weasley just how much you can be loved," Draco murmured a few moments later – after their kiss had ended with a soft sound echoing between them. "Or just let him find out on his own."

"Either way I think he'll end up in a catatonic state," Harry murmured right back, though with a wicked grin dancing on both his lips and his eyes.

Draco smirked back, a plan for the next afternoon at school already forming in his imagination.

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**AN:** _I was having problems figuring out where to end it, but that seemed as good a place as any. There will probably be more of this from me in the future, though I make no promises._

_-Ja._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** _In no way do I attempt to claim ownership of Harry Potter and its associated characters, concepts or ideas. JKR kicks butt, and we all know it._

**AN:** _Alright, so this might turn into an ongoing thing. Only because my two hour poetry class is way too boring for it's own good. Consider yourselves lucky._

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**Harry Potter: **_The Orphans Chronicles_  
**Part 2: **_The Hallway_  
**By: **_Sagi_

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The halls of Hogwarts High School pulsed sluggishly with muted life as the bell rang and student began to leave their classrooms. Some were unfortunate enough to have chemistry or history just before lunch so they were also the few who rushed from their classrooms the fastest – deeming escape from extra homework or severe boredom more important than proper curtsey to professors than a school like Hogwarts thought polite.

One boy in particular – who didn't suffer from chemistry or history before lunch – strutted down the hallway to his locker, speaking loudly, throwing his voice over the hallway noise, about everything from the sports he played to his test scores to the woman he loved. Somehow, however, all of those subjects brought him back to one of his classmate (who did have chemistry before lunch, the sucker) – and how that boy would never amount to anything. Because after all, he was only a dirt-poor orphan, not anybody of true importance.

"Potter," he snorted, hearing somebody near him mention the name (probably somebody else with chemistry before lunch, poor sod), "That good-for-"

"Yes, Weasley?"

That voice, definitely too calm and composed to be Potter's, caused Weasley to turn around. All activity in that part of the hallway stopped, everybody watching the confrontation between the two. Because standing there, blond and furiously angry, Draco Malfoy waited just in front of Potter – as though guarding him from the teen who had once tried to be his friend.

"What do you want Malfoy," Weasley sneered, he was going to be late for lunch now.

"I heard you talking about good-for-nothings and could only hope to wonder if you truly, finally, understood you place in this world."

A girl in the crowd tittered.

Weasley's temper flared, heating his face even faster than his embarrassment. "More than you apparently do, orphan child." He sneered again. Lunch could wait.

Behind the blond, Harry Potter's eyes flashed into a set of emerald flames – though that was no where near as dangerous as the line Malfoy's lips had thinned into. That anger vanished a moment later and a smirk appeared on Malfoy's elegant features instead.

"My apologies," he murmured, once again calm and composed, "I wasn't aware that you were top of our year, that you were the first choice in the athletic department, that you held the favor of all the professors and that you were dating the most gorgeous being in his school."

The crowd pulsed slightly, eyes now darting between Harry and Draco – not just Draco and Weasley.

Weasley grit his teeth together, not noticing this new development, his face refusing to loose its tomato blush. He hated being reminded that it was Potter who always beat him in everything. _Potter_ was top of their year – besting all the previous academic records. _Potter_ who held a special spot with the professors because he was so smart, and with the academic department because he was so athletic. But... as far as Weasley knew, Potter wasn't dating anyone.

Nobody at Hogwarts would date an orphan boy, Weasley was sure. Hogwarts was a school for the rich and elite. It was full of students who looked at appearance in their partners, but more importantly money and status. Potter didn't have that – nobody would look twice at him because he didn't have that.

Then, realization dawned on Weasley, and his face suddenly blanched in the full meaning of Malfoy's words. His embarrassment leaving him for horror.

"Most gorgeous being?" He choked out, "You? _Hardly_."

Potter's eyes flashed again, but Weasley didn't notice.

"Really? Your Granger's eyes follow me more often than they follow you. Surely you've noticed? Even though I am, as you say, an orphan child?" Malfoy mocked him. "I also seem to remember a certain French girl who paid no attention to you what-so-ever."

_...But hit off an instant friendship with Harry._ The words were unspoken, but Weasley still heard them.

"Draco," Harry said then, his cheeks now a delicate shade of embarrassment, probably from the probing looks he was now receiving. "Let's just go to lunch. Please?"

Draco smiled and nodded. "Of course, Harry. Just one more moment."

The blond then stepped so close to Weasley that their chests were close to brushing against each other.

"It's _your_ fault that you lost your chance at Harry's favor. Only _your_ fault that he'll always reject you, for me. We'll turn eighteen and gain our full inheritances – but _you'll_ have to wait for your patents to kick the bucket, and then _you'll_ have to split it with your siblings." Draco whispered directly into Weasley's ear, hot breath caressing the shell almost like a lover – but more like a predator playing with his prey. "He's _mine_, Weasley. And we're going to change the world – just for you."

"Draco," Harry said again. "We only have forty-five minutes left for lunch. All the puddings are going to be gone soon!"

Not that it mattered, Weasley dimly thought. The lunch ladies loved Potter too, and they would forever save him his precious puddings.

"Of course, Harry." Draco said again, his calm and composed face turning away from Ron. "I'll even give you my desert as an apology."

Then, in the middle of the hallway – at the attention of the crowd that had yet to disperse, he learned over and very purposefully kissed Harry's lips – cutting off his question of "_apology for what?"_

What really made Weasley fume, before he lost consciousness in his shock and pure anger, was the elegantly smug look that Draco shot him before the two orphans walked down the hallway and disappeared towards the lunch room.

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**AN:** _Remember that if you spot any glaring mistakes or inconsistencies that I'd like to hear about them. A writer really is her worst critic._

_-Ja._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** _In no way do I attempt to claim ownership of Harry Potter and its associated characters, concepts or ideas. JKR kicks butt and I know it._

**AN:** _Alright, I'm starting to think that this is actually going to turn into a fic, and not just little ficlets that are of the same universe. Perhaps next time I won't continue along the same story line. Anyway, this is Snape's chapter. There are a few interesting – perhaps important – bits thrown in here. Try to find them all! Enjoy._

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**Harry Potter: **_The Orphans Chronicles_  
**Part 3: **_Lunch with Snape_  
**By: **_Sagi_

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Professor Severus Snape, the top chemist in the country who had somehow been reduced to teaching high school chemistry, had no idea how his lunch time routine had changed. More, he had no idea how it had changed to include his two top students. He had a general idea, of course, it wasn't that long ago that the two boys had been transferred into his class – Professor Slughorn muttering something about two many questions as he signed the slip – and he had to endure thought-provoking question after question.

Because Harry Potter didn't ask simply clarifying questions like other well rounded students like Hermione Granger, he asked questions about why and how do you know. For a while, Snape quite believed him to be the worst student he had ever attempted to teach. Until he received the first tests of the year. Grueling, like they always were, yet Potter's questions had given him above a perfect score and actually boosted the average of the class. Even Longbottom had received an average grade.

The changes to his schedule, however, had started with a lunch time conference, in which Professor Snape wished to discuss furthering Harry's education with projects that would further his personal learning process and put his class average back where it should be. Harry, however, still asked questions during class and the average remained generally as high as it could get, but Harry's grade (as well as his closest friend – Draco Malfoy – who probably helped with the projects) remained outstanding.

After the initial conference, however, Harry and Draco seemed to take it into their heads that his classroom was a good place to spend lunch time. They would commonly stand outside his doorway now, waiting for him to arrive so that they could eat with him. And that was exactly where Snape found them waiting the day that he had heard professors Trelawney and Flitwick gossiping about his two favorite students.

"You two certainly made a spectacle out of yourselves today, didn't you?" He asked in a would-be calm voice as he unlocked the door to the chemistry lab.

Harry, who had been staring off into space, tensed slightly. His green eyes lost some of their shine. However, it was only after they moved into the classroom and shut the door behind them that he asked, "Sir?"

Professor Snape – now that he was seated at his desk – didn't keep his eyes on Harry though, but rather on Draco. Draco continued to look unruffled, even as the steady gaze turned into an intense glare.

The blond set about arranging his lunch on his tray to his liking.

"Sir?" Harry asked again. "Is what happened in the hall a serious problem?"

He paused in eating his pudding, placing it back onto the lunch tray.

Snape sighed, snapping his eyes to Harry. "You boys are here on scholarship and Dumbledore's good word only. Weasley was left unconscious in the hallway because of you. If the board sees evidence of this or anything like it, it will reflect badly towards you. The other students pay tuition – they contribute to the boards pay-checks. It won't matter about your grades, your popularity, rules or any of it if something threatens their students. Harry – that is to say – their _customers_. They're going to remove the threat – their charity cases."

By the end of this, Snape was pacing a bit and a good bit of color had fled from Harry's face.

"But Weasley-"

"Has a prominent and well known family. Potter and Malfoy might have been prominent at one point, but that was years ago. The fact is the two of you are orphans. According to the board, you're nothing but lucky children."

"Our names don't mean anything, you mean." Draco said, gripping his bag of crisps so tightly that they threatened to burst.

"Your parents killed each other, Draco, for no apparent reason at all. And your memory has been wiped clean of the eternity of your life before St. Mungo's! Harry's parents were killed in a fit of rage by some mad man, before being dumped into an orphanage by his uncle five years later. At this point, it's amazing that your names have survived you this long."

Harry stared at their professor – not quite believing his words. Snape had never before used the information about them in such a manner. Draco's lips had thinned – in a manner reminisce of the advanced maths professor Minerva McGonagall – his grey eyes flashing with muted anger. In his fist, what had been a nice looking sandwich was now compressed into mush.

Harry finally slumped his shoulders. "So what should I do?" he asked finally. His voice held a note of desperate fear. "I can't loose this scholarship. I need it more than anything."

Snape's eyes gleamed with what could have been pride. "Rise above it!" He said forcibly. "Don't put the attention on ourselves like you did today. Don't actively seek rewards for your test scores. Your studies and academic achievements should be a private thing, Harry, not the talk of the hallway. You might assume that's why Mr. Weasley does antagonize you so much. After that disastrous display from first year it's no wonder."

"But Granger-"

"Is a snoop, I know. And she tells Weasley everything – and he then blows it out of proportion. But you don't help matters, Draco."

"It's not Harry's fault that Weasley is an insufferable prat!" Draco argued, his eyes flashing again, his emotions wild.

"It isn't," Snape agreed, "but the both of you have to deal with him."

The professor sighed suddenly, out of steam. He did so hate repeating an argument. He sat back down at his desk and fished his lunch again.

"Sir?" Harry asked after a bit of staring at his pudding and hating that he didn't feel like eating it anymore.

"Just be careful. Unless you boys accept my offer, you can only assume the worse in these sorts of situations."

Harry sighed as well, hanging his head again, fingers playing with Draco's, which had immediately moved to grip them.

An interesting natural instinct, Snape noticed tiredly.

No more words were said and a thoughtful silence filled the room, broken only by chewing and eventually the bell to announce the end of lunch.

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**AN:** _Again, let me know about spelling/grammar mistakes!_

_**–Sagi**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** _In no way do I attempt to claim ownership of Harry Potter and its associated characters, concepts or ideas. JKR kicks butt and I know it._

**AN:** _Part four, a quick glance at the wonderful academic side of Hermione that everyone always seems to avoid. The slightly jealous side of her, which only occurs (or so it seems) when she is not a part of the "Golden Trio" or some sort of close friend of Harry's. Yeah. That stuff._

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**Harry Potter: **_The Orphans Chronicles_  
**Part 4: **_Hermione_  
**By: **_Sagi_

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If there was ever a student who couldn't stand that she was only second best – it was Hermione Granger. She was second only to Harry Potter – and if that wasn't bad enough she didn't even hold the second position to herself, she had to share it with Potter's best friend Draco Malfoy. It was irritating, to say the least. Hermione didn't have any classes with Harry and Draco (who shared a schedule) so she didn't have any idea how they got into the good graces of the professors.

Especially the more prickly professors like Snape and McGonagall, who did their absolute damndest to not play favorites.

Hermione huffed, staring at the piles of books and homework sitting and waiting to be read and double checked. She had a counseling session in about ten minutes to talk about her course work and what was needed for university.

Hermione knew what needed to be done to get into her college of choice. Perfect scores, a good resume with work and volunteer experience. That's what McGonagall was going to tell her – and Hermione really wanted to get another hour of studying in before cheerleading practice – which apparently made her into a well rounded student.

Sighing, Hermione stood up to pack her bag and return her books to the shelves that they belonged on. In the science section she spotted a very familiar pair of heads end over a book. It wasn't the presence of t hem that stopped her – Harry and Draco shared study period with her – though they weren't often in the library – but rather their hushed conversation.

"Snape suggested that I aim for Merlin's University," Harry was saying, "because of their science program. But McGonagall wants me to go to London Tech for maths."

"Didn't Dumbledore say you should go there?" Draco asked, scratching his pen against his paper distractedly.

Hermione bristled slightly. Those were the top schools in the country – she was aiming for them herself. And Harry had the top professors and the headmaster suggesting he go to them?

"But where do you want to go? I know the government has already offered to send you to any school you want, any where in the country."

"I... I was thinking of leaving the country." Harry murmured. "I don't think that the offer will stretch that far, but I'm sure that I can get a scholarship if I get enough recommendations. Fudge would even do one, I bet."

Hermione blinked in disbelief. Harry had the resources, the grades and the recommendations to go to any school in all of Great Brittan that he wanted – and he wanted to earn his own scholarship in another country? She didn't understand, so she forcibly reminded herself that she had an appointment with McGonagall about her own future.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Granger, right on time."

"Hullo Professor."

"Well, Miss Granger, you're here because you have top grades – but your resume is relatively empty after that. I would suggest a part-time job or some volunteer work over the next year or, at the very least, until you graduate."

"Which do you think would be better, Professor?"

"Volunteering, most definitely. I know that your family isn't exactly hurting for money, Miss Granger, even if you are here on scholarship. This work would allow possible schools and employers how you were willing to give back to the community without any monetary gain – important on many different levels. As it is, I know that the Matron at St. Mungo's is looking for some weekend help. If you're interested I'll give her a call and set it up for you."

"I- well, I guess. But don't Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy both live there? Wouldn't that help the Matron?"

"They've both recently gotten jobs, I gather. So the Matron is looking for some help. Just on weekends, possible evenings if you've the time. You will have to talk to her about the specifics. Interested?"

"Oh, well alright then. You will let me know?"

"Of course, now – about your choices for colleges. The Headmaster, Professor Snape and I have been thinking about it, as you are one of the top students in the school, and we feel that if you're grades continue as they have for the last six years, that either Merlin's University, London Tech or another of those top schools would be best suited for you. It's all up to you, after all, and you do have another year before you must decide but, making the choice and then working towards it has always suited myself and I believe that it will work for you as well."

* * *

"Ah, Miss Granger, I presume?"

The woman who greeted Hermione at St. Mungo's Orphanage was exactly the type of person that the teenaged girl thought would be running such an institution. She was squat and plump and smiling. Warm but stern. This woman was the kind of woman who knew every trick in the book because she lived with thirty children and didn't allow any of them to put more than one toe out of line – if that.

Hermione now knew why Harry and Draco were so well behaved and modest in school.

"Yes," Hermione said, shaking the woman's hand before following her down the hallway. They arrived – after skirting around a few piles of toys – at a very handsomely done office.

"I hope you don't mind, but this will have to be quick. I have an appointment in about twenty minutes and this man is never late." The Matron shifted a few files to the side of her desk and looked carefully at Hermione. "Now, have you ever worked with children before? Any siblings, cousins or babysitting jobs?"

"No, Ma'am," Hermione said, starting to feel nervous.

"Well, this will be quite an experience for you then, won't it? Alright, let me tell you the basics and then Harry – I think that was him thundering around upstairs anyway – do you know Harry and Draco? Yes? Wonderful – can show you around and introduce you to everyone."

Hermione nodded.

"Now, on weekdays everyone has classes here at the orphanage, unless the child has requested otherwise. None of the children attend public primary school, and only begin public school at the age of thirteen. There are special cases, of course, if the child has requested it or if they show an aptitude for accepting that they don't have parents and the other children do. When a child finishes their daily lessons they can play or do as they wish until quiet time. The mealtime schedule is locked at nine, twelve and five everyday – even weekends. And after dinner is study time and quiet time." The Matron blinked at Hermione's confident look. "I'm sure that any questions you have will ultimately be answered through experience."

Hermione nodded.

"Your job," The Matron continued, "will be working with the children on their public skills – dealing with new people and playing games with them – as well as helping them master basic skills such as reading and study habits. The youngest children will need help and having an older girl here will help the girls about to go through puberty more than Harry and Draco can help them."

A knock sounded on the door and the Matron glanced at the clock. "Early today, isn't he? Alright dear, I'll get somebody to show you to Harry's room and he'll show you around."

She ushered Hermione to the door.

"Severus, hello. Please have a seat and I'll be right back."

"Miss Granger?"

"Professor Snape?"

"Really Severus, I told you I was looking for some help... come along Miss Granger. Evan – could you bring Miss Granger up to Harry's room? Thanks dear."

A curious looking child, maybe eight, smiled at Hermione and dashed up the main stairs – clearly thinking that she would follow him.

Hermione stared before hurrying after the child. "Ah, Evan, wait!" She called.

Even might have slowed his pace for a moment or two before dashing off again, clearly enjoying the game. Hermione followed him as best she could up three more flights of stairs, before he began to dash right back down. Blinking in disbelief, Hermione sat down on the top stair and panted.

"-time I'm serious!" An angry voice was saying. "They keep getting worse and I keep remembering more of them."

"Draco, listen. You've been having these dreams since you came here. You don't want to remember your past, so don't worry too much about it, okay?"

Well, at least Harry sounded calm, Hermione though as she wheezed desperately.

"I know that I don't' want to remember, Harry, but that doesn't stop the dreams! I doesn't stop anything at all! Harry, you – ow- what was that?"

A gasp. "Draco?"

"Just, don't grab me there..."

"Draco, you've been getting the phantom pains too, not just the dreams?" Harry definitely didn't sound calm anymore. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Silence met the query – as far was Hermione could tell – and she decided that she would rather have her tour now than try to interpret whatever it was that that silence meant.

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**AN:** _End Part 1 of Hermione's chapter. I'll have the next bit up soon._

_Review and it will be up sooner? (these review pleas make me feel so needy...)_

_**-Sagi**_


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